


Opportunists

by aloofloaf



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies), Mad Max: Fury Road
Genre: But Max tho.., F/M, Fight Sex, Furiosa fights how she fucks, Kiss With a Fist, NO DUB CON, Porn with (a bit of) plot, Resolved Sexual Tension, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, desert sex, dominance play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-21
Updated: 2015-06-21
Packaged: 2018-04-05 12:01:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4179075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aloofloaf/pseuds/aloofloaf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He remembered how Cheedo still didn’t even have to struggle to hold her down, as she tried to sit up to greet him. He grunted a greeting and patted her shoulder. Too close to her neck and a fraction too long for it to be just a friendly gesture.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Opportunists

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by an madmaxkindmeme prompt:
> 
> "Remember in that initial fight when Max has Furiosa on her stomach with her arms pinned? Yeah, I want them to fuck like that. "

Day 372

She winks at her escorting patrol and the two cars leave her sides to speed ahead. The War Boys know better than to question her orders. In a narrow curve, she chased her motorbike off to where she last saw the still silhouette of the familiar car. She sees him, too, once she is near enough. He straightens his back and stops rummaging around in the back of his car, musters the motorbike which heads for him. The thread he sees is not serious enough to aim his trusty rifle, but stays alert nevertheless.

She stops her bike, two or three human lengths away from him, the next movements are deliberate and carefully calculated. They exchange no greetings, but they know each other as good as you could know another human out here. Max’ normally fleeing gazes stay focused on her as he takes her in, energy coiled between his shoulder blades. She hangs her goggles on the handles of her bike. Then she pushes the thick cloth, she used to protect her neck, face and upper body from sand, down her body. Revealed gets hard skin, discolored bandages, thick leather, and iron to make up for the lost hand. The usual again. 

Max’ face is grown full with hair again, dirty strands hang well into his forehead. They stop shortly above his eyes, who observe with intent. They stare at each other, hackles raised. Two high energy beasts clashing territory in the Wastelands which nobody sane wants. 

It’s Furiosa who set things off, as she leaps from her bike in an agile arch of fists, spine and legs. He braces himself for the impact but gets thrown to the ground. His higher body mass can’t deflect her centrifugal move. She sits above his navel, using the time he needs to orient himself after the impact to her advantage. Her first fist in his face is a surprise, the second one he manages to dodge. As she tries for the first time, he catches her arm and feels the solid Deja-vue of the situation. He has the skin above her metal hand under his fingers, and grips hard. He knows her intent and what he did to deserve it. He broke the seriousness with a smile, as mad as he is, and rears up against the weight of her on him. She had nothing against his core strength. She tried to wrestle back, pushing her feet below his legs and lever him back. They struggle, but in the end she’s the one who gets thrown back and lands on her side. She shuffles to her feet before he has a chance to throw his weight on her. With an annoyed growl he stands up, too, as he sees his chance of pinning her dwindle with her velocity. Fistfight it is, as she charges him again, aiming for his head with her metal fist. It’s deadly, he knows. With it strapped to her body she doesn’t need a bolt cutter to split his skull open. 

He is what he is, though. He sidesteps her with ease, her angry howl betraying her intent to punch too early. His answer hits her hard. He gives her all she’s given him: everything. He is close in her space and his fist is in her gut, in the open triangle, right where the rips stop protect everything vital of her. The leather straps fastened around her mid did little to soften the punch and she hears herself make a disgusting sound as her innards protested the violent treatment. She couldn’t sink to her knees though, because Max had grabbed her scruff with his other hand, fist full of clothing and leather which hold her arm in place. The bile in her mouth, his chuckle in her ears, the ghost of his beard at her neck fuel everything in her, what make her earn her name since birth. Busting blind rage masks the screams of her stomach and the offended ribs who just mended together through time. She thrashes with her whole body, makes him focus on trying to still her, then trusts her knee against his in a swift movement. She can see his perplexed face as his leg folds beneath him and throws him off balance. She used the opening and hit him square in the jaw again, optimistic that she has him seeing stars. He growled unhappy and shaked his head, lying on his back while she starts to grope at his shoulders trying to find grip with her metal hand. He comprehends her plan right in the second she takes a big swing above him with her knee, intending to sucker punch him in the groin with all she’s got and sparkling eyes.

Something akin to real survival instinct kicks in for the first time since they locked horns. He coils himself into a ball and she only manages to knee his outer hip, pain searing up and down his side. She let go of his shoulder and hit him again, which, in hindsight, prove to be her final mistake in battle. He grabs her arm and throws her off of him. They struggle. Hands groping, pushing, hitting, but in the end more muscle overpower less muscle and he has her on her stomach, fixed her legs in place with his knees, and her arms with his hands. She’s like an angry desert cat beneath him, winding, clawing at him, and hissing profanities. He pushed his elbows straight after he’s sure he’d got her and puts all his weight onto where he’s holding her.

He takes the time to look at her, as he has never seen her like that. Powerful, but trapped. Defiant, but entirely secured under his body. The uncovered skin of her neck and back taunt him. He indulges himself in this moment, and overstretches her arms curled onto her back a bit more, straining her joints in sweet revenge for the almost missed kick. It doesn’t make her stop struggling though. It only makes her louder. Swiftly, he bends down again, careful not to lose his grip on her. His mind is blissfully empty right here and now as he feels her struggle and press against him. Lush lips part and he sinks his teeth right onto her neck, testing the hardness of her muscles between his teeth, pulling a bit. He takes more of her into his mouth like a wolverine, tasting her sweat and the sour dirt of the Wasteland. It’s delicious.

Furiosa went silent under him as she felt his teeth bore onto the skin of her neck. She is shocked and surprised and when she feels him tug at her skin even a bit offended. “Max.” She warns, it’s the first real word what has crossed her lips besides angry hissing. With a last lick he lets her neck in peace. He neither moved away, nor did he let go of her. Furiosa could feel the tip of his nose bump her, when she struggles halfheartedly. 

“You’re so dangerous.” He offers, his breath hitting the spit moist spot on her neck. She’s going to show him who’s dangerous. In a spurt of angry energy she manages to rear up with him on her back, throwing him off balance again. With a loud wheeze she flops back on the sand with him, short lived energy spend, but her arms are free to flail around again. She tries to grope something, anything what could help her cause, while he tries to catch her. The old spiel again and Max really doesn’t really feel like giving up his dominating position. In a somewhat desperate move he grabbed for her throat, and turned her head around. She stopped struggling then, her free hands at either side of her neck, too aware of his hard grip on her throat. “Motherf-..” she cursed, angrily, but the rest of the word staid stuck in her throat. 

A coarse hum vibrated near her ear, delighted by the profanity. He would have said ‘definitely’, and deliver some sort of pun how, yes, he is in fact going to fuck one of the Many-Mothers, but that would have just added to her anger. Instead of answering, he snaked his second arm down her side, pressing his thumb in a straight line down her ribcage, feeling every ripple of every muscle and bone. She twitched, involuntarily, as he thumbed a hard muscle and her reaction had him smiling into her neck. In a swift movement he raised his hips and made space. He laid his hand between her clothed buttocks and fondled downwards, deeper between her legs, where he could only feel softness under the thick fabric of her pants. When he pressed under her pubic bone, she moaned.

So he did it again.

He dug deeper and deeper between her legs, as far as her pants allow him. Sometimes he would reach all the way around her, almost under her, just to reach that bundle of nerves, which made her press herself against him, as far as she could move in the entrapment of his body. He turned his head slightly and kissed her cheek, mere millimeters away from her lips. Furiosa only huffed in annoyance and started to struggle halfheartedly against his grip again. “If you think I’ll let you fuck me now..” she spat, but he saw neither fear nor fury in her face. When he moved in again to press a second kiss to her cheek, overcome with stupid sentimentality of unknown origin, she jerked her head up sideways and butts him. She hit his nose quite painfully, and he cursed. Meanwhile Furiosa was disappointed she didn’t draw blood.

With that he reached under her hip to make short work of her pants. She struggled against his grip and his adventuring hand, like the trapped desert cat she was. “Furiosa.” He growled and pressed his body harder on her, fed up with the struggling. She had the gall to snicker at him and he just growled again, louder this time, and ripped the trapped hand under her body downwards, hoping that he is just that skilled in ripping off halfway unbuttoned pants off of people. Turns out he was. 

He found her soaking, and he didn’t even have to push a finger between her lips to feel that. He just traced her sex with his finger, feels the slick liquid covering her slit. You don’t waste time in the Wasteland, that’s the general rule if you don’t want to get killed. He’s also generally better in opening his own pants and in a matter of seconds he shuffled his cock free, letting it lie heavy on the valley of her butt cheeks. He pressed her legs together with his knees, positioning himself just right above her legs. 

“Don’t you dare!” She growls, but all he hears is “Dare.”

He lifts her hips slightly and rubs his penis between her slick lips. Once, twice, up and down. He guides his cock downwards over her clitoris making her jerk and badly suppress a moan, which he felt vibrating under his hand. It remembered him to grip her neck again, as his hand only hung loosely around her throat.  
He flexed his finger, gripping her throat, and with a grunt he pushed inside of her. It was warm and slick and he could’ve come right here and now, the way her muscles were coiling around him and her back was trying to arch. He stilled and breathed and thought of not busting. His head was silent, and he could have needed the reproachful dead right about now. They refused to appear. Seven inhales later he began to pump. With every thrust, Furiosa moaned deliciously as he hit something inside of her just right. He kept his rhythm steady, as he rammed his pelvis as hard as he can against the curve of her ass, enjoying the sound. It’s been a long time since he has heard this melody; his base grunts, her vibrant moans, backed with the percussions of their bodies. For each thrust, he planted a kiss on her. From her cheek in a path around his hand to her neck and nibbled at the nearly dried skin again.

He must have made her mad, because as he pulled back for the next pump, she’s rearing up against him, coiling her body together to knees in the sand with an angry roar. He grunts, surprised and nearly loses his footing. It took all he has not to dislodge and fall off her back like the horny, overexcited dog he is right now. His only victory was clinging his arms to her hips, ensuring he stays buried inside of her.

She twisted her upper body around and gripped is collar, pushing is chest back and away from her. Their eyes met, two pairs of blown pupils clashing in a moment of stillness. Max broadcasted sudden nervousness, twitchy under the hard gaze Furiosa shoots in his direction. He became aware in the situation they’re in. Kneeling in the Wasteland dunes, between their forgotten car and bike, trousers hastily pushed down over their knees, her back pressed against the arch of his lower belly and thighs, breeding. Red bruises on their bodies slowly turning blue made him question the consent of the situation in this fleeing moment of clarity. 

But he gets yanked forward. While he was still lost in the unsaid words, Furiosa must have seen what she wanted to know and pressed her lips on his. The kiss is openmouthed, wild and messy. Spit leaking and teeth clacking as she began to roll her hips, stroking herself with his cock deep inside. She groaned in his mouth almost too perverted to bear and bit the full curve of his lower lip. If it’s one thing Max could, it is how to recognize a challenge. He took her hips he just clutched almost desperately and pushes her away, just to pull himself into her again a moment later, with a satisfying force that has him grunting louder than her scream. He heatedly grips her metal-bound elbow, yanking it back. It was just sweet how it allowed him to build the leverage he needed with every push of his hip, showing her body against him again and again.

She displayed a surprising amount of flexibility right here and there, still halfway turned around and biting at his lips, while he plummets into her again and again and again and again.

Her body spasms and her back arches, teeth sinking harder into the flesh of his lips. He feels her pelvic muscles clench his cock in the rhythms of a second heartbeat as she comes, howling through gritted teeth. With closed eyes he continued to pump into her, but it was the taste of his own blood, what pushed him over the edge almost painfully hard. His balls tightened. It felt like an eternity, as he spurted his sperm inside of her. He felt like a god.

She had let go of his shirt, lost in sensation. Her body was falling forward until she caught herself with her flesh hand on the sand, the other one still fixed in Max’ death grip. 

Both their minds were fuzzy and absentminded, neurons trying to cope with transmitters, they both hadn’t encountered in a while. Max hand knead the flesh of her hip under his fingers, stroking his slowly shrinking cock in a mindless movement against her walls, enjoying the feeling. Who knew when the opportunity would come along? It’s not like he fucked on a regular basis. Not anymore. Restlessness tingled at the edge of his consciousness again, but he couldn’t find it in himself to indulge it. Instead he chuckled deeply, remembering the arching leap Furiosa did in her initial attack. If she would have just jumped into his arms back then, one or the other bruised bone would have been spared.

“You started this. “ She said and had obviously regained her breath again. Her voice sounded soft and full, but he heard a discontented resonance in it he didn’t like. Right now, her moans are his favourites and he felt himself twitch, and plot how he could get to hear that sound again. She ripped at her prosthesis to free herself and he let her go, disgruntled. When she moved her hips away from him, he stops her. He preferred the warmth of her heat of her body on him so much more than the heat of the desert. “N-no! “ He started two times, his voice breaking again from the usual coarseness. She let him stop her, but felt stupid doing so, indulging something so foolishly primal. He didn’t mean for his exclamation of unhappiness to stand for his answer, so he started a second time. “I mean, yes.” He confesses, strangely vehement and couldn’t push himself to feel guilty. 

Furiosa sighed.

She struggled again to get up and again he doesn’t want to let her go. This time, she is the one who digs her heels in, and gets up. The wet pop was delicious as his cock jumps free, glistering wetly and hanging abandoned between his legs. He saw her leaking his seed, right before she bowed down pull up her pants. It got caught mostly by her pants, but he sees splatter of little dark drops in the orange sand below. He is mesmerizes, and she watches him like a hawk.

When he finally gets up to tuck himself away he remembers why the fuck his body didn’t feel like getting up anyway. The pain in his knee burned well into his spine, and he can’t control his gasp. She smirks a bit and leaned herself back on her bike. As she continued to watch him, she consciously had to control urge to help him up. At that point she wasn’t even aware of her own arm snaking itself around her midsection, as if trying to soothe the bruised organs below. He curses and wobbles and was finally able to get up himself, cock tucked away and his forever-impaired knee gently bend.

“You should one of the Healers have a look at it.” She offered, but the offer was more for herself, than for him. He rested a hand on the side of the Interceptor, a look on his face as if deeply in thought. She couldn’t quite tell if he was considering her offer, or getting lost in his hallucinations and dreaded the uncomfortable knot she felt in her chest at that thought. He shrugged then. “Probably.” He said, eyes fixed on her.

This time, it was him who charged her. Not in a leap but with long strides. She saw how he controlled his limp, but couldn’t bring herself to care as he pressed his lips on her again and groping between herself, making her feel the wetness. “I will.” He groans into her mouth and feels his split and bitten lip under her touch. The iron-y taste made him twitch in his pants.

Huh, new horizons.

 

Furiosa pushed him off of her then, but her eyes held no malice. With a finger she rubbed at a dried smudge of blood on his chin, encrusted in his bushy beard and searched for his eyes.

His gaze only jumped away once, before they settled on her. “You should follow me then.” She whispers, the implied ‘home’ hangs like a dark mass full of promise and menace above them. Max nods.

She binds the cloth around her body and puts on her goggles. Once she started her engine he started his, and togerther they drive towards the three big rocks towering at the end of the ocean of sand.

 

Day 20

The fat tyrant’s day of death had long since passed. When the road hadn’t always been kind to him, he found a safe haven in the Citadel of freed women. No one asked him to stay longer than he wanted, he’s glad they understand wordlessly. His restless mind chases his restless legs deep and deeper into the wasteland. His stays in Citadel are mostly the same, no nights, not if he can avoid it. He takes his precious time they need to fill up his tank, mend torn metal from his car, stock up his food and water rations, to silently lick his wounds. It’s soothing to see that he has made a difference. The wives are alive and free, and even though he just wanted to survive himself on the war of the Fury Road, he is still happy about the difference his decisions made. In four shorts stays and snapshots, he can witness The Dag’s belly grow and grow and be slim again, carrying the life she had under her skin above it now, cradled to her chest. 

He got to witness Furiosa, weeks after the war, weak but stubbornly fighting as fever from her stab wounds tried to overtake her body. The defiant look in her eyes every time she met his gaze told him all he needed to know to be able to stop worrying. He got to witness her months after the war, skinnier and weak, but glowing, as life had her again. He remembered how Cheedo still didn’t even have to struggle to hold her down, as she tried to sit up to greet him. He grunted a greeting and patted her shoulder. Too close to her neck and a fraction too long for it to be just a friendly gesture.

When their eyes met he knows, she knows he saw easy prey. Animals are opportunists. 

A year later, when he saw her again, riding a motorbike flanked by two of her patrol cars, nothing remembered of the hardship her body faced. He is oddly proud of the woman he knows almost nothing about, except how her muscles moves in battle. And yet he thought, there is nothing more intimate than that.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments,  
> Criticism,  
> Kudos all welcome. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing :)


End file.
